Chapter 7
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Winifred took Rosalind’s hand to leave, though the little girl turned to wave goodbye to Humbert.
A colleague sidled up with a grin. “Your relative? She’s the spitting image of you. Good looks clearly run in your family.”
“Is she?” Humbert arched an eyebrow.
When he looked up again, Winifred and Rosalind had already disappeared down the hallway.
If he actually had a daughter that age, his mother would be ecstatic. Not that such a thing was possible.
Still, he had to admit the girl was adorable. Something about Rosalind lingered in his thoughts, leaving him with an odd, unsettled feeling.
*****
On the way home, Rosalind tugged at her mother’s sleeve. “Mom, we forgot Spud in that doctor’s car.”
“Spud?” Winifred hesitated for a moment before remembering that Spud was the scruffy little mutt her daughter had scooped up from the busy street.
Her stomach clenched at the memory of Rosalind running into traffic. “Rose, promise me you’ll never take a risk like that again,” she said, keeping her voice steady but soft.
“I know,” Rosalind mumbled. “But he wasn’t speeding. I just tripped because I got scared–he
didn’t even hit me.”
“It doesn’t matter. The answer is still no.” Winifred brushed a hand over her daughter’s hair, her throat tight.
Winifred had chosen the nickname Rose for her daughter, hoping she’d grow strong like a rose that blooms even among thorns. But more than anything, she just wanted her precious daughter to stay safe.
“But Mom,” Rosalind pressed, “Spud’s still with him. The doctor who looks like Dad.”
Winifred’s breath caught. “We can’t tell anyone about that, Rose,” she said carefully. “It’s not our place, and it might make him uncomfortable.” The explanation sounded weak even to her own ears, but Rosalind, ever trusting, just nodded.
Lying felt like pulling at a knotted thread–the harder she tugged, the more tangled it became.
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Chapter 7
Winifred held her daughter tighter, hoping she wouldn’t press further.
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She knew asking Humbert for the dog was hopeless. Besides, she was staying in Ruby’s apartment, in a neighborhood where a barking dog would only cause problems with the neighbors.
Humbert probably didn’t mind dogs all that much, but Winifred doubted he had the patience to care for one.
She still remembered the time she’d brought him a trembling stray, pleading with him to take it in for the winter. He had refused without hesitation.
Humbert was distant with everyone, his words often sharp, except in bed.
“Rose, once you’ve recovered from your surgery, I’ll work hard so we can have our own home. Then we’ll get a dog, all right?”
“But it won’t be Spud,” Rosalind murmured, the words piercing Winifred’s heart.
At nine in the evening, Winifred helped her daughter with a school project. Rosalind was drawing a poster, carefully sketching an adorable little mutt with a round, fluffy face.
Without thinking too much, Winifred took out her phone and found the business card. She was going to ask Humbert about the dog.
In seven years, this was only her second time calling him. The first had been six years ago, when she was weak from blood loss in a hospital bed.
That night, when his deep voice answered with “Hello? Who is this?” she had hung up immediately.
Now she stood on the balcony, while Rosalind was absorbed in a TV show inside. Careful not to disturb her, Winifred quietly slid the glass door shut and leaned against it, her slender frame tense.
Her fingers hovered over the phone screen. After a moment’s hesitation, she pressed call.
The phone rang several times before a woman answered with a melodic, “Hello? Are you calling for Humbert?”
Winifred froze where she stood, clutching the phone with a throat suddenly too tight to speak.
The woman repeated her greeting several times.
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Chapter 7
Winifred finally forced out the words. “Sorry, wrong number.”
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“That can’t be,” the woman replied. “You were asking for Humbert? He’s showering now, but I can have him call you back.”
Winifred ended the call without replying, and then leaned her slender frame against the door before sliding slowly to the floor.
‘It’s nine in the evening. That had to be his girlfriend,‘ she thought bitterly. ‘A man like Humbert–handsome, wealthy–would always have women circling like sharks.‘
Winifred took a deep breath, her pale face weary as she sat by the door and gazed at the faint moonlight outside.
She knew she shouldn’t dwell on Humbert’s life. Seven years was long enough that they now moved through entirely different orbits.
‘He’s probably forgotten Claire ever existed,‘ she thought, the familiar ache settling in her chest. ‘Or worse… To someone like him–polished, privileged–maybe what we had was just… an unfortunate mistake. Something he’d rather pretend never happened.
‘If I hadn’t blackmailed him with Cheryl’s secret, he’d never have agreed to date me.
A wave of dizziness hit Winifred as she stood, her fingers tightening around the doorknob for support. She closed her eyes and took slow breaths, fighting the lightheadedness that made her legs feel weak.
Her weight had melted off after childbirth, leaving her prone to spells of low blood struck whenever she was tired or stressed.
sugar
that
Her phone suddenly vibrated violently in her hand. Winifred looked down to see Humbert’s number flashing across the screen–he was calling her back.
The insistent buzzing left her palm tingling as she stared at the pulsing number. After a steadying breath, she answered the call.
On the third floor of the Pierce residence, Humbert emerged from the shower, water still dripping from his hair as he tied the sash of his black silk robe.
With a stern expression, he glanced at the scruffy little dog whining as it lapped milk from a bowl on the floor.
The line kept ringing as he walked over and grabbed the pup by its scruff just before its nose plunged into the milk bowl.
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The next second, the call connected. “This is Humbert,” he said brusquely. “What do you need?”
Jessica’s eyes widened as she watched Humbert manhandle the puppy. “Be gentle!” she cried out, already moving toward him. In one swift motion, she took the squirming pup from his hands and cradled it protectively against her chest.
Winifred froze when she heard a woman’s voice. Whatever she had been about to say caught in her throat.
The image of him flirting with some woman, or even in bed with his girlfriend while taking this call, flashed through Winifred’s mind. Her face drained of color as she caught her lower lip between her teeth.
“If this is important, say it now,” Humbert said evenly, keeping the phone to his ear. He assumed it was a patient calling–this was his emergency line.
“It’s me, Mr. Pierce. My daughter’s dog was in your car that day,” she managed.
The soft, familiar female voice on the phone made Humbert hesitate. He wondered if it was because he’d been thinking about Claire so much recently that he was even imagining her voice.
“Yes, it’s with me now,” he replied.
“Mr. Pierce, would tomorrow work? We could arrange to meet. My daughter has become very fond of this dog…” she started.
“Let’s do next week instead. I’ll be in Anlaria tomorrow, but I’ll contact you when I return.”
“Okay.” Winifred pressed her lips together briefly. “Sorry to trouble you.”
She was about to hang up when Humbert’s deep voice came through just as she lowered the phone. “What’s your name? For my records,” he asked.
“Winifred Nelson,” she replied.
“Win–a–fred?” Humbert frowned at the bizarre name.”
Jessica rolled her eyes hard. “Winifred. W–1–N–1–F–R–E–D. Are you hard of hearing?”
Winifred heard the woman’s teasing reprimand through the phone and immediately pictured some privileged socialite. Without hesitation, she ended the call.
Running away wasn’t something to be ashamed of. Right now, it was exactly what she needed.
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Chapter 8
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
